


My Zombie and Me

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Crack, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, psuedo-zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IT tech Jared finds The Walking Dead fanfic on his work crush's computer and decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Zombie and Me

Jared probably shouldn’t have called Chad about something like this.

“Dude, I have a Dorito stuck under my nutsack and I can’t get it out, fuck.”

Correction: Jared probably shouldn’t call Chad about _anything._

“So you’re saying that the dude you have been homo-weeping about for the last six months gets off on fucking dead people. I mean, I’m all for your ass getting a good plowing in its time of need because it keeps you limber for b-ball on Saturdays, but this is a little much even for you.”

A noise that sounds suspiciously like someone munching on Doritos comes over the line, and Jared just holds back a gag.

“I didn’t say he likes fucking dead people, you idiot. It’s just fanfic, fantasy,” Jared corrects. 

Chad snorts, and then coughs. “I mean, if you are going to read porn about the Walking Dead, then at least make sure that tight blonde hottie is in it.”

“Beth is, like, thirteen, you monster.”

“In the zombie apocalypse, age is but a number, brother.”

Jared is just to hang up the phone when he hears Chad give one of his patented long-suffering Chad-sighs. “What now?”

“Look, Jayman – how do we know this dude is not a serial killer? People who like dead people are usually serial killers. Shemar Moore taught me that.”

“He’s way too hot to be a serial killer.”

“Ted Bundy was hot.”

“What the—“

“OK, Mark Harmon _playing_ Ted Bundy was hot.”

“Chad, is there something you want to tell me, big guy?”

Chad makes a rude noise and begins munching again. “Whatever, Paddywack. Your funeral.”

==

Really though, it wasn’t as bad as Chad makes it sound. 

Jared is the senior IT tech for Morgan and Associates. He gets paid to check out stuff on other people’s computers. 

Jensen Ackles is a God. 

OK, no, Jensen Ackles is actually the Vice President of Accounting, but in some parallel universe where sweater vests and wire-rimmed glasses are signs of the divine, he’s surely a God.

Jared didn’t _mean_ to find what he found but he did and now, _well._

It went a little something like this –

==

“Hello, Jared. How are you this afternoon?” 

Jensen looks up from behind the sleek lines of his mahogany desk and gives Jared a brief smile that crinkles up the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, Mr. Ackles. Good, and you?” Jared just manages to squeak out, throwing out a little wave from his spot rooted to the doorframe.

Jensen chuckles, taking his glasses off to clean them with the bottom of his sweater vest. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Jensen? Mr. Ackles sounds like my father, and I’m not _that_ old yet.”

“Sure thing, Jensen,” Jared echoes, unable to do stop himself from beaming when Jensen smiles at the sound of his own name. 

“That’s more like it,” Jensen replies, standing up, and Jared wants to tell him to stop that because his voice is this close to giving Jared a boner in his khakis. 

“So Danneel said that you were having issues with your Outlook?” Jared asks, trying his best for professionalism.

Jensen nods and starts heading towards the door. Jared is frozen in panic for a second seeing the man coming within the vicinity of him, but just manages to step to the side in time for their bodies to not collide into one terrifying mass of khaki-covered erection.

“Yeah, I’m going to head out and get myself some lunch while you fix the problem. That alright? Danneel can help you if you need anything.”

“Nope, all good. Have a good time.”

Jensen smiles one last time, and Jared _swears_ that the look in his eyes behind his glasses is almost playful.

“I always do, Jared.”

Ten minutes later, Jared is staring at a Word Document that apparently was meant to be saved and closed out, but the computer freezing just minimized it instead.

_Daryl looks at the boy, monster, thing. He rubs a filthy hand across the coarseness of his scruff before walking over to where it’s tied up against the rusty metal headboard._

“Oh.”

_The Walker cries out, almost a mournful sound, Daryl thinks. He’s been alone out here a long time. Daryl understands that feeling, now that the group has split off, rest of them God only knows where. He reaches out a hand to unbuckle the monster’s belt. Daryl doesn’t know what he’s doing, but it feels like relief._

“My.”

_Half of its face is gone, but there is still a patch of flesh on its cheek. The Walker wails when Daryl touches him, and the flesh indents into one still-perfect dimple. A crater of humanity._

“God!”

Jared clicks out of the Word Doc and pushes back in the chair so fast, he tumbles off onto the ground. 

As he sits there, trying to figure out _why_ he’s not totally disgusted even though he’s definitely freaked out and it comes down to one word – _dimples._

“Jensen totally digs zombie me,” Jared says to the air, giving Invisible-Chad a high-five.

==

“He sounds like a serial killer. Only serial killers like dead people. Mariska Hargitay taught me that.”

Jared’s not sure why he thought calling Gen would be more helpful.

“But Gen, he wears glasses and sweater vests and has _freckles_ , serial killers don’t have freckles. Why would God even do something like that?”

There’s a long pause, and Jared’s unsure whether she’s contemplating that statement or painting her nails. 

“Is he hot?” she asks finally, and the blowing sound says she’s _definitely_ painting her nails.

“So hot.”

“So, what now? You going to blackmail him into hot raunchy gay sex because you know his dirty little secret?” Gen asks, snickering.

“No! Are you crazy – I’m going to _seduce_ him.”

“Great plan,” Gen snorts. “Didn’t you say you can barely say hello to the man without getting a boner?”

“Yes, but since boners are part of the plan, maybe this is not a bad thing.”

“So what _is_ the plan, and please do not tell me Chad was involved in devising it.”

Jared’s silent for long enough that she groans. 

“It’s a good plan!” he exclaims, and she groans even louder.

==

Mr. Morgan, their boss, _loves_ Halloween. No one really knows why exactly, but every year, without fail, he holds a huge party for the entire company, complete with required costumes and a completely decked-out rented space.

Jared thinks it’s just an excuse for him to bust out his favorite costume, 1950s Biker Vampire, but Morgan looks so happy in it that it’s hard to begrudge him for wearing it six years in a row.

Jared shuffles in – literally, he’s shuffling, it’s part of his costume – and waves over at some of his co-workers. Aldis --who is dressed like a Luke Cage-- stops flexing for Danneel – dressed as an android Playboy bunny – for a moment to try and wave him over, but Jared shakes his head and side-steps it right over to the open bar.

“Padalecki, my boy, you are looking rather _un_ -well!” Mr. Morgan booms out with a chuckle when he sees Jared approaching, using the occasion to casually sweep his satin cape around his leather jacket.

Jared looks down at his costume and then back up at his boss. “Feeling a little dead on my feet, I must admit.”

Morgan barks out a laugh and Jared cringes because it wasn’t _that_ funny. The bossman looks half-way to toasted though, so Jared gives him a good-natured thumbs up as Morgan wanders off to threaten to bite subordinates necks like every year.

Jared’s made it through two Boo-tacular Bourbon cocktails and still there’s no sign of Jensen. The man is new to the company and this is his first Halloween with them, so maybe he doesn’t realize how big of a deal it is to Morgan and decided to bail on it.

Which would _suck_ because the latex plastering Jared’s face is starting to itch like a motherfucker and if he doesn’t even get some dick out of this experience, he will be highly annoyed. Mostly at Chad for suggesting he go to the party dressed as a zombie, but also for Jensen for not being around to inappropriately appreciate the effort.

“Jared.”

 _Score,_ Jared shouts at himself internally, which is totally not weird at all.

“Jensen,” he says, rather triumphantly frankly, considering he doesn’t stutter or squeak, and spins around to face the possibly-a-serial-killer dreamboat.

Who is dressed like Daryl from _The Walking Dead_ , complete with ripped tank-top, artistically streaked dirt on his gorgeous face, and a fake cross-bow slung over his shoulder.

“I like your costume,” Jensen says, voice even lower and throatier than usual and Jared doesn’t think the sound that comes out of his own throat can be classified as anything other than a whimper.

“I’m a zombie,” Jared mumbles, stating the obvious. The latex itches, but it’s apparently connected right to his dick because – hello! – Boner City.

“A Walker,” Jensen corrects.

“Yeah, that,” Jared agrees, breathlessly.

==

The last thing Jared would ever want to do is give Chad credit for having an actual good idea, but, _well._

==

“You found it –“ Jensen bites the underside of Jared’s neck, right under a piece of pealed latex. “-didn’t you?”

“I – “Jared whimpers, as Jensen gets his dick out of his ripped up pants and spits in his hand before starting a pumping motion. “-didn’t mean – oh god like that – to look, it – fuck, Jensen – was just there.”

Jensen hand glides up and down a few more strokes before he stops, holding the base of Jared’s dick firmly in his fist. He noses in against Jared’s mouth, until he’s close enough for Jared to see the bottle-green of Jensen’s eyes behind his contacts, even in the dark light of the coat closet.

“What did you think?” Jensen whispers against his mouth, tongue peeking out to swipe against Jared’s lips.

The pressure of Jensen’s fist is growing as tight as the pressure in Jared’s balls, and Jared doesn’t know if his answer is going to help solve those issues or only increase them.

He swallows hard and blurts out:

“I think the collected works of Necromancer69 are an artful tale of loneliness and the romanticization of the degradation of the human spirit. They are both visceral and wistful in turn, and the gothic beauty of the horror within them is breathtaking in its sadness. I left kudos on all twenty three stories on AO3. Anonymously, but you know.”

Jared doesn’t think he’s ever seen a person drop to his knees faster than Jensen Ackles in a coat closet during the Morgan and Associates Halloween Party of 2014. Luckily, Jared’s the lucky zombie on the receiving end, so he can’t complain much.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day that I saw you get a boner in those stupid khakis,” Jensen says, breath puffing hot against Jared’s dick as he leans forward without preamble and curls his tongue around the crown of it.

“Don’t blame me, blame the sweater vests,” Jared grunts out, head falling back against the wall with a thump. 

“You like those, huh, big boy,” Jensen slurs out, or at least Jared thinks that’s what the man says, but it’s hard to understand from where Jensen had Jared’s entire dick playing hockey with his tonsils.

“Yeah, oh god, yeah, I really, really do,” Jared replies, hands threading into the synthetic strands of Jensen’s hipster mullet wig.

Jensen’s getting into it now, dirt makeup smeared all over his cheeks and chin as his face gets wet with spit and precome. His fist works in tandem with his mouth, pumping the very bottom of Jared’s shaft as his lips cork-screw down to meet it.

Jared moans as Jensen’s rhythm gets faster, and he can’t keep himself from pumping his hips against Jensen’s face. 

Jensen just takes it, low moan coming from deep in his throat as he works Jared’s dick with his lips and tongue, suction sloppy and loud in the small dark space of the coat closet.

“Jensen, I’m gonna, fuck—“ Jared cries out, gripping Jensen’s head so hard that the wig slides off and falls to the ground. There’s just enough time for Jared to slip his fingers back into the damp, messy strands of Jensen’s real hair, before he is filling Jensen’s throat with jizz and feeling it work greedily to swallow it all.

Jared barely recovers before Jensen is dragging him down onto his knees next to him and grabbing Jared’s hand to wrap around his own dick, which he’s pulled out from behind the zipper of his camo pants.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Jensen whimpers, as pieces of latex fly off of Jared’s hand as he pumps Jensen’s dick right to orgasm.

==

Chad burps over the line a few days later. “So, not a serial killer, just a frustrated horror porn writer moonlighting as an accountant?”

Jared looks over his shoulder, where Jensen is sleeping peacefully, face bunched up all soft and adorable in repose. “Right.”

“You sure about that, Jayman?” 

Jensen snuffles. 

Jared looks at the handcuffs and lengths of rope he just discovered in Jensen’s nightstand and swallows hard. 

_Nah,_ Jared thinks. _Chad only gets to be right once in a lifetime._

“Of course I am, Chad. He has freckles, for God’s sake.”


End file.
